


Animalia, or the Circle of Life

by vegetalass



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Help, M/M, Your villain name is Ophelia!!!!, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:24:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetalass/pseuds/vegetalass
Summary: Because Steel is still cruel, and because you know that if he even thought of the connection between you and villainy that he would shoot you in the face on sight. And who would want a relationship with a man like that even on his best days?Not you.Well…. that’s a lie. But this whole “crush” thing is a recent development. You weren’t expecting to fall for him, not when he can barely look at you in return.





	Animalia, or the Circle of Life

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr! thanks to my friends, markab who beta read and grum for her edits! <3

In a way, Steel has always looked slightly deformed to you. **  
**

For starters, his arms are a little bit too big for his waist, and his back stands just a little too taut, almost as if you could see the metal rods fused to the bones that hide beneath his skin. It’s never really been a problem, this aspect of him, especially since these are things you easily forget whenever you’re not in his vicinity. It’s only when you stare at his malformed figure in a sad kind of longing as you quietly join him in the Ranger’s HQ, that you realize that there’s always been something off about him that you can’t quite seem to place.

Maybe you’re just being harsh because he doesn’t really like you. Hell, maybe you’re harsh all the time. But when you gently skim his mind and accidentally get a feel for how uneasy he still is around you, it’s easy to begin thinking about all of the wasted effort you’ve put into getting to know him. He only has to snarl at you for you to remember that he is not your friend and never will be, which makes it easy to understand why there must be something else that is causing you to look at him like he’s an animal.

It’s unfair. The fact that Steel won’t be nice to you and you have never been allowed to be nice at all. You know that he doesn’t deserve to be judged as such, when he’s been trying to get to know you the way that one deserves to be known… But it’s hard when you can see right through his forehead, and understand that nothing will ever be enough.

The most dangerous animals are often the most beautiful, after all, and though his scars are a warning that do nothing to favor him, still, you can’t help but think what a handsome man he could’ve been had he not waged a war against you and the whole fucking world.

You wish you could’ve been real friends. More than friends.

Maybe you will be in the next life, after you finally kill him in this one.

You play a game — in your head, that is — where you pretend that everyone normal is actually hideous and that everyone hated is loved, and that here, in this game, you’re the only beautiful savior left who’s going to protect the Los Diablos citizens from evil.

Steel is there, in all his glory, and Ortega too, along with the rest of the Rangers, and it’s here that you remain on opposing sides, but instead of helping they just hinder, and instead of having their victories broadcast on television, their mugshots hang from telephone poles all city-wide.

Even though you could’ve been a Ranger, you’ve decided that this vision is much more satisfying.

The fantasy continues with everyone you love turning out to be a Re-Gene and not a single person who turns away when they see blue skin or orange tattoos. You live your life in the open, proud of your scars and body, and become as revered as Ophelia as Ortega is as Charge or as Chen Wei is as Steel, deformities and all.  

The long-awaited celebration comes last, when you finally imagine how you save the day and how people cheer for you, this _other_ you, the real you. And it’s when you see Steel there, begging for your forgiveness against all odds and factors, though you take your time, you also decide to forgive him, not for his sake, but for yourself and the people, to prove that kindness and love really can be a choice.

Because in this pretend place, Steel loves you.

This is always how the game ends, happily, as the real Steel would never choose kindness, and even at your friendliest, you don’t think you would, either.

There’s nothing in the world, you think, that could be better than this. It’s just… too bad it’s not real.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, and in fact, probably never will.

Because Steel is still cruel, and because you know that if he even thought of the connection between you and villainy that he would shoot you in the face on sight. And who would want a relationship with a man like that even on his best days?

Not you.

Well…. that’s a lie. But this whole “crush” thing is a recent development. You weren’t expecting to fall for him, not when he can barely look at you in return.

To say he even tolerates you would be a kindness. You talk, you laugh, and you smile, as though you’re normal people in a normal city, doing things that people in a normal relationship would do. Any human could be fooled by his nature, and part of you has been, too. But you’re not a human, and Steel is used to being on TV,  so both of you know when a hand that’s been extended isn’t really a hand at all. And despite the passing kindnesses that you have shared together, Steel still won’t let you in.

You know this, because when you bask in his mind’s image of you, you can see that part of him wants to. He’s just better at being reasonable, or you guess, as Ortega would say, “hurting himself.”

Because you do like Steel. You do. It’s just really complicated to explain, and you know that Steel wouldn’t ever feel like listening.

You can imagine the laugh Ortega would have at this problem already, and frankly, you can imagine having one, too. It would be a lot easier to be nice and kind to Steel if he was nice and kind to you. Because those are the rules, and even if you do have a weird thing for him, you have a much longer history that needs to be respected.

Which is funny, since you’re even at the HQ right now.

Steel shuffles, breaking your train of thought, and turns around, shoulders and then head, before noticing you hiding in the silence of the room you share.

Piss.

“Hi, Chen,” you nod, pretending that you hadn’t just been imagining all the different ways you could get him on his knees. That’s ironic.

“Sidestep,” he acknowledges, body still tilted sideways on the chair he’s been resting on, elbows on his knees.

“Can’t use my name?” you joke, trying to force a smile, at least to replicate the feeling of normality instead of the vicious aura of displacement that already surrounds you. It’s been enough just to have this ill-fated crush on him, you don’t want to reek of insecurity, as well.

He chuckles softly, chest expanding, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

He seems nervous, disrupted by your appearance, as if you caught him in a moment of vulnerability and hesitation. His face is tilted down, and despite the obvious recognition in his eyes, his back stays hunched. You’d be curious at his predicament, but you’re a telepath, and you don’t have to wonder for long.

At the the first burning touch to his mind, you can already see the person that’s reflected back at you, and it’s not hard to see why he’s acting so bothered.  

You might as well be a monster from the way your image distorts. Your face breaks into a mocking smile, with teeth like pointed needles, and as your body grows to a tower-like height and becomes layered with dark armor that is unmistakable in shape and form, you begin to reach out in all directions, as well.

You look terrifying yet familiar, but you recognize the feeling of Steel’s hesitation at the thought. You know this is one of the reasons why you think he is capable of being nice.

You break instantly from your trance at the sound of his voice, though he hasn’t moved an inch.

“This thing we have…” he trails off, waving his hand in the air. You stare at him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights from your resting place by the door.

The way he says your name makes you feel sick.

“I don’t want you coming to the HQ anymore.”

You continue to stare at him, silent at his confession despite the fact that you could have seen it coming.

That you should have seen it coming.

“You’re a variable that I cannot afford,” he voices, again dancing around any explanation or reason why, “and you can’t keep leading me on like this.”

In your game, this is the part where Steel says he’s just worried about you. If this were your game, you also know that Steel would say he’s sorry.

You know it’s naive to assume that he doesn’t suspect that you’re Ophelia, but you’re not sure what evidence he really has, and it makes you angry to think that you may have slipped.

But it’s hard to decide if it was intentional or not, and if this is the outcome, if it was worth it.

“Say something,” he demands, voice straining and suddenly angry, as he watches your eyes hover distractedly over his body but never focus. He rests his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes roughly with terrible metal knuckles.

“I’m…” you start, sucking in a sharp breath when you finally look at his face, “not leading you on.”

His reply is instant. “Then what are you doing?”

He glares at you from behind his hands, but you do not flinch as you’re unsure of what he’s expecting your answer to be.

You see the monster in his mind again, the one that’s a wrongful depiction of you, now shedding a stream of bloody tears. Suddenly, it becomes harder to watch through Steel’s eyes, as the You-Beast morphs from something hideous into the kind, little kid you were eight years ago, still stained in blood.

_Oh, Chen! I just want to be a Ranger!_

What a sick joke. A cruel one.  

Because that is not your answer, it never was, and now, you have nothing left to say to him, it being clear when your eyes slip to the floor in shock. Anger radiates from every inch of his person, and yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care the way you would’ve, even if you had just a week ago. You reach out for purchase against the slope of his thoughts, and see that his response is easy and his words are endless.

He narrows his eyes.

“I’m being kind. I’ve been more than kind. I just…” he rubs the bridge of his nose, and restarts the thought. “You know that I care for you.”

“You do?” It’s not checkmate, but it’s a start.

He hesitates. You’re a mind reader, after all.

Both of you remain quiet, standing in wait for a battle that is bound to happen. In some ways, you feel numb to his words, unfazed at his unkindness a part of you has always known him to be hiding. Yet, there is also a piece of you that forces your eyes to close in an attempt to concentrate just enough to stop yourself from lashing out. You don’t want to face the consequences of becoming angry at a man who is too pathetic to let you be happy in your spare time.

You peel your eyes open, and realize you have begun to cry.

“I don’t want to watch you drag your baggage around as if there is a way to mend what is broken.” His voice is stern, and suddenly you feel like a kid.

Your hands reach out, finding the closest thing to your body that fits in your hand and throwing it in his direction. He flinches, but the half-full bottle of Neon Rangerade misses his head by a good foot and a half and he stares at you with a blank expression.

“I’m not broken,” you croak, trying to defend what little reason you have left, "Nothing is broken."

The words feel heavy on your tongue, like the pills you could never swallow, but Steel ignores your disposition in his stupor. Normally, you’d attempt to reach a finger into his mind, but you know the only things that would be left there are his weird image of Ortega and about a thousand vile words.

“I don’t deserve being lied to,” he says blandly this time, distantly, while gazing far out the window at God knows what.

You don’t care to know what he’s thinking about anymore, or which incident it is that bleeds and stains in his mind. You have been good at keeping your mouth shut, but this conversation has been all the confirmation he needs. Silence can be a poison, and though you could easily find out what it is that Steel has been holding onto, what grief he carries in his heart, you can’t find it in yourself to press him any harder. He would know if you did, and you’re already crying.

He’s being cruel by doing this to you; forcing you to sew your lips shut even when all you wanted was him. People say that it’s the Re-Genes who lack any Humanity. Another fucking joke.  

“You’re an animal, Steel. You know that, right? A fucking dog.”

That’s ironic.

You wipe your wet cheeks. You shouldn’t be crying about a man you know never cared.

“Maybe,” he finishes, avoiding your eyes, “but that doesn’t mean shit coming from you.”

You watch as Steel stands up, finally broken from the paralysis you must’ve put him in. He glances once more at the white folder in his hands, and then at the leaking Rangerade you threw on the floor. He slowly puts down the files, and reaches for the bottle that is staining the carpet a bright orange. He’s always been a good boy.

You want to say you like that about him.

You can’t.

As he rests the bottle on the table, you notice Ortega’s face on the label that gazes up at the both of you in a trained and empty smile. You know it well, because part of you is empty, too.

“I’ll kill you, Steel.” you finally say, angry at both yourself and him for appearing so weak, so flushed red and angry. You turn to watch him as he pushes past you with heavy footsteps, and when he reaches the door to the long, sunny hallway that stretches out to the elevator, he doesn’t stop to look at you.

“I know.” His final words are cold, and it doesn’t take any telepathy to realize that he knows you aren’t lying.

Tomorrow you will be enemies again, and whatever your feelings were, they won’t matter now, because any kindness Steel had left for you died the moment you let yourself fall. The moment you realized it wasn’t a game anymore.

This is the animal kingdom, after all. It always has been, and the both of you are predators, waiting for the day when you can finally taste the sweetness that comes with being deadly.

It’s the circle of life.

You think about your game; about the fake Steel who begs on his knees for you and the boy he becomes when he kisses you despite your tattoos and scars. Despite being broken and animalistic.

You made him up in your head.

It makes you sad… Because it’s true that the real Steel hates you, and that if anyone else you loved knew you weren’t human, they would run for the hills, too. But most of all, it’s too bad that the people of Los Diablos don’t see you as their hero, and probably never will, because even if you pretend you don’t care, it would be really, really nice to feel loved.

Steel made you realize that.

And as you leave the HQ alone for the last time, a long time after Steel, you play the game over. This time, though, not forgiving anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
